The Plum End
by Kadyn
Summary: Posted so it doesn't get lost in my shuffle, might sit for a while! DarkFic hurt/comfort. Babe. Stephanie ends up in trouble during what should have been a routine capture, can Ranger save her from something far more sinister before it's too late?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **_Not mine, they belong to someone else! (thank god, this is too much work keeping Steph alive!)_

**Notes: **_I have too many stories all in the air, this will probably sit here until I finish some things. I'm mainly putting it up so it doesn't just get lost in this giant folder on my laptop with __STUFF__ in it. It's a decent plotline and I want to give it time to fester and rattle around in my muse's brain. _

_R__eviews/Comments, and 'why the hell did you post something when you should finish X!' threats welcomed! _

_(I know, I know. Opening myself up to the floodgates of doom on that last one!)_

_No Beta on this one either folks so any and all mistakes are my fault._

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**Chapter ****One -** Or prologue, depending on how you look at it...yeah. sheesh.

_8:53pm—Somewhere in Newark, NJ_

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Les and I both eyed the hole in the otherwise solid concrete wall that our FTA had just scuttled through, it barely came up to my knees and was half as wide as Lester's shoulders.

"Huh," Les said sounding a bit like Lula would if she were face with the same problem.

"No way are you getting through that," I agreed. _Only one of us could. Me. Crap._ "Cavemen don't fit in small, tight holes," I continued still talking out loud. Okay, so I was babbling, but I was nervous. I do that—so sue me. I knew how this was going to end, and I was worried that the second I stuck my head through that hole someone or _something _thanks to one too many late night sci-fi movies would grab me. I didn't want to be eaten by a scaly monster thing with too many teeth and red beady eyes in this crummy building. I wanted to go home to my nice warm bed and my hamster Rex.

My God, I thought, I couldn't get eaten in here, who would take care of Rex?

Beside me Les snickered and shot me a leer when I looked up and I belatedly realized what I'd just said. _Crap._ "Don't _even_ say it!" I warned, threatening him with a single pointed finger that wasn't scary, at all. Maybe if it had been manicured to a sharper edge…but then again probably not.

Lester's grin widened. "That's not my experience Beautiful; the tighter the hole the more I like it."

_Holy Hot Flash._ "You're a pig Santos," I said in mock disgust considering giving him a different kind of finger and hoping the darkness inside this god-forsaken building and the grime already coating my cheeks covered up my deep blush. "A pig," I added for emphasis when he hardly seemed discouraged at all. _Crap, maybe he could tell I was blushing, it wasn't my fault.__It been a long dry month._

"You going through the glory hole Steph or what?" Cal was laughing behind us. _Great._ I was hoping he was still on the other side of the building. His presence not much good for anything but teasing seeing as Cal was built the same as Lester, which equated to pretty much a linebacker, neither man obviously was going to be any help what-so-ever in retrieving the FTA from the other side of this wall. Maybe they could just plow it down. I eyed the rest of the building, probably not without bringing the whole thing down…

I wasn't sure what I was worried about, I mean it wasn't like the guy was dangerous or anything, not really, but I didn't read that far on his rap sheet since the guys were with me in full force. They'd called me in hoping I could lure the guy out distraction job style, course that idea had gone sideways when we got the informant call that the FTA had been seen on foot in the area with someone underage, none of the guys liked that in the slightest so we'd high tailed it over here to try to find him—so far he'd been a huge pain in the ass, but not particularly dangerous—just _quick_.

"Not one more word," I hissed. "I have a gun, and I will shoot you." Cal held up his palms in mock surrender and Les continued to grin down at me. It wasn't a completely idle threat…I _did_ have a gun. It just happened to be in my brown bear cookie jar—and it may or may not contain bullets.

"Do I even want to know what's going on in there? What the _Hell_ is taking so long?" an irate sounding Tank barked in my ear piece.

"In a minute, Steph's getting all territorial about anyone else fitting in her hole." Les said loud enough so Cal and Tank could hear him.

Behind us Cal started silently dying, complete with tears. Seriously if he laughed any harder he was in danger of falling over—or hyperventilating.

My ear piece on the other hand was oddly silent. Maybe Tank had just gone home. We were pretty hopeless.

"That's not what I said," I snarled to Les who was still grinning at me.

He waggled his eyebrows and jutted his thumb towards the hole. "Whadda say Beautiful , you going to let the man get away?"

_I was thinking about it._ I huffed out a sigh and rolled my eyes so far back in my head I was able to double check with my brain to see if it thought this was a bad idea—_yup, it was definitely a bad idea_, but Les was goading me. If I stood here any longer pondering it he'd start making chicken noises. And Cal was laughing at me. And Tank was…Where WAS Tank? Crap, maybe he really did go home, or worse maybe he'd called Ranger to tell him what was going on.

I gave myself a firm mental head thwack and heaved another sigh holding out my hand. "Give me your Mag Light," I told Les.

"It's got far more impressive names," Les winked at me and I snorted.

An angry voice barked in my ear almost making me jump. "Give her the Damn Flashlight Santos, _Now_." Oh, _There_ was Tank. _My hero_.

I took the light and switched it on squatting down to sweep the beam through the interior of the hole checking to see what was on the other side. It might be a tight fit for a ways but then it seemed to open up…_sorta_. "Huh," I said.

Then I did something incredibly stupid—even for me. I tucked the Mag Light under my armpit and crawled inside.

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TBC? I have no idea! I have so much crap on my plate this shouldn't even have happened but my muse kicked me and the shin and said 'Hey stupid! write this!' ...over the years I've learned not to piss her off.


	2. Chapter 2

**Typos fixed and thanks to alix33!  **_8/27_

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**Chapter Two **

_10:03 pm__-Somewhere dark._

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I woke up half curled on my side, and every part of me hurt like a bitch!

I drew in a startled breath and then wheezed it out a moment later when the sharp inhale tore at something piercing into my side. I couldn't see anything, all around me was darkness, not like the late at night in your room darkness where you're in danger of stubbing your toe on the corner leg of the dresser. I'm talking total oblivion darkness—not even outlines to help me. It was like being suspended in _nothing_, emptiness clung all around me—pressed against me like a physical weight. It was making it hard to breathe suddenly. It was like being buried alive by Stiva all over again, and I sucked in a panicked breath and felt tears slide down my cheeks fighting a wave of intense terror.

_Think, Stephanie, Think!_ I told myself fighting sheer terror. _Stiva is dead!__ You're not in a coffin! __But where was I?_ The last thing I'd remembered was chasing a medium-bond skip through an abandoned building in Newark with Cal, Les and Tank…then…_nothing_.

I was coming up blank. And that was concerning me, quite a bit. And why did my side hurt so bad? I reached out tentative fingers grateful that I wasn't tied up—that meant I hadn't been kidnaped right? Kidnappers always tied me up, first thing. It must have been in those kidnappers rule books they hand out at meetings for crazy people. I shuddered.

And then I nearly screamed. There was a sharp piece of metal poking out of the skin just under the edge of my Kevlar vest. I froze feeling my heart pound in my chest and tried to tell myself this wasn't real. It couldn't be. Wouldn't I be in more pain if this was really happening? I mean I hurt, I hurt quite a lot—everywhere in fact. My right forearm hurt pretty badly when I thought about it and my shoulders both ached, my lower back as on fire and the sharp piece of metal poking through my side? _Ah, no big deal._

_Shock_. Some frantic part of my brain told me. _You're in shock._ And that sounded pretty reasonable actually—a perfectly logical explanation. But it still didn't explain where I was, or how I'd ended up in here.

I shifted my neck very carefully trying to look around in the darkness hoping for some form of light to see by grateful that my neck didn't feel broken. There was something glowing very faintly off to my left side, it was hard to tell in the darkness but it seemed the light was partially obscured by something—it was a reflection coming up from behind something, but I couldn't make out what. Just the faint blue-green glow.

_Flashlight. __Where was my flashlight?_ I'd taken Lester's Mag light right before I crawled into that hole.

_The hole._ _Tank_, I raised my aching right hand keeping my left still—afraid to jar the rebar sticking out of my side. And felt around near my right ear searching for the ear piece that should have allowed me to hear Tank and the guys if they were still up there.

_Of course they're up there!_ My brain shrieked, _Where the hell else would they be?_ Like they'd let you crawl in a hole and end up…wherever the hell this is and then what? Just leave to go grab a beer?

So _where _were they? More importantly where the Hell was I? I was obviously alone, and I had no idea how long I'd been gone. Maybe it had only been a few minutes, maybe they didn't know there was a problem yet. They'd be here any minute, and they'd know what to do. They'd call Bobby, and the EMT's and we'd go to the hospital—and then everything would be fine. It had to be.

I figured out where the ear piece had gone when I found the wire dangling near the back of my neck and carefully lifted it up, turning it with my fingers in the dark and placed it back in my ear and immediately felt my eyes well up with fresh tears.

"-abe, God. _Please Babe_, if you can hear me say something…babe, please God answer me."

_Ranger.__wow, it must be bad if they'd called Ranger._

"Do you want the good news," I rasped because my throat was raw and scratchy like I'd inhaled half a soccer field of gravel and dust. I coughed weakly and groaned because the jerking movement shot fire down my side and that hurt like hell too. "or the bad news." I finished weakly when I stopped hacking up half a lung.

"_Babe,_" Ranger breathed, and he sounded strangely desperate.

"How long was I out?" I wondered.

"…about an hour, we're trying to get to you now, but we had to call in some experts the building is old—and a lot of it is unstable."

"No shit." I wheezed.

"Where are you Babe? Can you see anything that might help?"

Right, I didn't have my trackers on me, since I didn't have my purse…or my POS car. And while my cell phone was on my hip, in theory it wouldn't give them much more than a general GPS location—and they already knew I was in the building. I cast my eyes around the pressing darkness once more, the room could be the size of a football field, or the ceiling could be a few inches above my head—I really hoped it wasn't the later of the two. Ever since Stiva and the cupboard I've had a pretty rough time with enclosed spaces. "I can't see shit." I told him finally.

Someone in the background said something, and Ranger snapped "What?" and then his voice softened and I realized he was talking to me once more. "Babe, do you still have Lester's Mag light?"

_Right, the flashlight._ I'd tucked it under my arm. I started scraping my fingers around my sides against the dirt and sucked in a painful breath when it moved my side jarring the metal that was definitely poking through my skin about an inch from the edge of my waist and sticking several inches up in the air. And whatever it was didn't move with me, I seemed to be fixed on the floor.

Ranger was saying something again, "-abe, are you hurt?"

I felt the sharp metal edge, and the slick wetness coating it and was infinitely glad I couldn't see it in the dark. I'm pretty sure not seeing it was keeping me calm. "You didn't ask me for the good news Ranger,"

He was quiet for a moment, then he decided to play along obviously because he said, "What's the good news?"

"I'm alive, and I can hear you." Ranger sucked in a breath.

"Do I want to know the bad news?" he said.

"No," I told him shaking my own head slowly in the darkness. "You _really_ don't, tell Les next time there's a hole in the wall; He can go first."

"Already taken care of Babe," Ranger breathed in my ear.

"Did you shoot him?" I asked, a hint of fear creeping into my voice. Ranger didn't need two dead team members, that was going to be hell on paperwork and HR. Then I realized the direction my own thoughts had been in and felt a tight lump well up in my throat, I swallowed trying to push it down again. I didn't think I was going to die, not really; did I? I thought of the metal I couldn't see and realized I didn't know—and that possibility terrified me.

"No, I didn't shoot him." Ranger said, but he didn't sound like he'd completely ruled it out as a possibility.

"Did you find that Mag Light yet, babe?" _Right the flashlight. _ I started searching again with my fingers reaching my arms out around me wondering just how far the thing could have rolled or bounced when I felt it, just it's very edge with the tip of my index finger. I could reach it if I moved—course moving would risk tearing my side.

"I have a problem." I said, trying to keep the hysteria out of my voice.

"I'm experiencing some of that myself," Ranger informed me and I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips, Ranger humor.

"I found the Flashlight," I said.

"And?"

"Can't reach it."

"You can't move?" and Ranger's tone was something I couldn't name—I didn't know what to make of it.

"Not easily," I returned.

"Can you move your feet? Your legs?" Ranger asked voice oddly tight.

I was reasonably certain I could. I wiggled my toes and then my feet and even pulled my knees up a bit before the action shifted my spine—which turned me just enough that the thing poking through my back started to burn all over again and I sucked in a shuddering breath and cursed and clamped my eyes shut while bells clanged in my head and I wondered for a moment if I puked when I could turn completely on my side if I'd choke to death—and also I really, _really _didn't want to puke and then have to lay in it waiting to be rescued. That would be just plain embarrassing.

"I can move my legs," I said, "Sorta,"

"Explain," Ranger growled and the tightness to his voice grew worse, it made my eyes burn with tears but I couldn't name why.

"Remember the bad news?" I gasped.

"_Babe_,"

"Let's talk about something else," I said. Because I had no idea how to word it. And if I did I knew standing outside the building somewhere waiting for some excavation crew and feeling helpless Ranger would start going Apeshit. _'__I've sorta beenimpaled,'_ tended to have that effect on people.

Ranger sucked in a sharp breath in my ear and I squeezed my eyes shut again and said. "Fuck."

Ranger said nothing, but there was a lot of heavy breathing on his end that didn't sound so good.

"I said that out loud didn't I?" I asked.

"Impaled how?" Ranger finally managed to say. And yes, I guess I did.

"Nothing major," I said, and then immediately felt guilty because I was pretty sure I was lying to Ranger—and I never lie to Ranger…okay maybe I fib to Ranger on occasion, or don't tell him the whole truth when said truth will result in him trying to lock me up or haul me away to a safe house somewhere where I absolutely couldn't do my job…

"I need to get in there," Ranger snarled, and I'm pretty sure he was talking to someone else because it sounded like an argument started up on his end of the conversation. Obviously whoever his conversation was happening with out there held some kind of authority in my current situation and wasn't giving Ranger an answer he agreed with.

There was a lot more cursing and it sounded like maybe Lester or Cal or Tank had gotten involved in the fight. Ranger came back on the line, breathing faster and his tone was clipped when he told me. "Babe, I need some idea of where you are! Can you reach the light without injuring yourself further?"

I bit my lip and told him yes, and then stretched my hand out to feel the edge of the flashlight's end. I finally managed to twist a bit, biting my lower lip against the agonizing pain of shifting my shoulders both one way, and my hips the other rotating like a bug stuck on a display pin just enough that I could roll the Mag Light towards me over the ground. My finger's closed over the end and I dragged it back to me.

"Got it." I said clutching it to my chest like it was made of diamonds and breathing a little too fast, sweat dampening my hair line and temple.

Then I flicked on the light and sucked in a startled breath—and then I may have sorta screamed.

"Babe!? Stephanie!?" Ranger's voice in my ear helped me focus, so did closing my eyes tight so I couldn't see what I'd just seen—course I couldn't really un-see what I'd just seen, and I was having a hell of a hard time forgetting it.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," I repeated a few times—more to myself then to Ranger's frantic question in my ear. "Just, didn't realize the ceiling was going to be right there."

"Babe?"

"I'm in some kind of…space. Uh, It's concrete, there's beams, big square concrete beams but the part I'm in is maybe two feet tall, except for the hole above me—some kind of pipe it looks like, I think it was connected to the one in the wall I went through. I don't remember what happened, but I must have fallen down it after I crawled into the wall. The rest of the room might be higher I can't…" and then I stopped talking to suck in a breath.

I'd been swinging the Mag light's beam around the space trying to find a floor number, and office plaque, Hell a big helpful red dot on a map that said 'you are here!' but what I'd found was a dead body.

I hate when I do that. Between you and me it seems to happen a lot. And worse—I knew this dead body, and that wasn't all.

"I've got some bad news." I said again because Ranger wasn't sounding really happy in my ear—not that this was likely to improve his mood any.

"You already gave me the bad news." Ranger said, and then he blew out a breath that told me he was hoping I had a head injury maybe and that I was just talking in circles because I didn't remember we'd already discussed my…plight…but nope.

"I have worse news." I said and when Ranger didn't ask me what it was I decided to just come out with it. "I found our FTA, and he's dead."

"That's not so bad, I can live with that." Ranger said.

"That wasn't the news." I told him poking the edge of Lester's Mag Light against the guys leather jacket and discovering where the pale blue-green light was coming from all along—turned out in the dark it wasn't as far away as I thought it was. Ranger was saying something in my ear but I was having trouble focusing on his words or even hearing him over the buzzing sound in my ears.

I licked dusty dry lips and tried to swallow and said in the strongest voice I could manage. "Ranger, what does a bomb look like?"

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Seriously, I'm not talking to my muse for a week. She gives me this with all the other stuff already on my plate...ugh. ~*~*~*~


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer I supposed (if I must): **_I don't own them, just my wacky muse and plot lines!_

_Mad thanks to the readers/reviewers for the last two chapters... :)_

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**Chapter Three**

_9:07 pm__—__Rangeman Trenton Field office_

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It was the type of call he was _always_ dreading. He _hated _these calls—and they happened far too often despite all his efforts to prevent them. Ranger found it infinitely unnerving, like the universe itself was mocking him that he could infiltrate foreign enemy soil, hostile governments, instigate government regime changes and move undetected and unheeded in almost any part of the world—but he couldn't keep her safe.

He'd been in meetings all day—potential new clients for his company, Rangeman needed the new influx of contracts. They needed the cash, not that his company was operating anywhere near the red line—far from it. Rangeman LLC was one of the fastest growing security enterprises in the states—and most of the world; few could match his standards, expertise or dedication.

Unfortunately that dedication had torn him from where he really wanted to be today, but the job wasn't supposed to go down until close to eleven o'clock—when the FTA would be firmly tucked in at his favorite watering hole and preferable a few sheets to the wind before his Babe even set foot inside. It should have been a piece of cake, a walk in the park…easy as pie. Somehow when his Babe was involved things always seemed to go a bit…sideways.

The first notice that there was a problem had come in the form of his phone buzzing in his pocket halfway through his last meeting—it had run late and he was already annoyed and ready to be done so he could grab a bite to eat on seven and get ready for the rest of the nights work. Such a simple take-down didn't require his presence and if it hadn't been for his Babe being involved Ranger certainly wouldn't have bothered—he liked being in the field and out of his office, he liked the excitement and it kept his instincts sharp but tonight he really could have done without he'd had an 'off' feeling for hours and the tingle along his spine was starting to drive him nuts.

The tingle became a dull roar the moment his cell phone started vibrating in his hip pocket. The normally subtle buzz against his thigh shot through him like a bolt of lightning making the muscles in his leg jerk. For a startled moment he wondered if the device had been tampered with—if it had in fact shocked him despite the implausibility of such a scenario. He'd quickly checked the message from Tank, his second in command, who was under most circumstances completely capable of keeping his babe safe, and the feeling only intensified.

There was nothing alarming about the wording of Tanks message per say, there wasn't anything in the context that should have been off putting. But Ranger's instant gut reaction had been the same—and if he hadn't been in a the middle of a very long meeting with an already incredibly needy and high-profile client he'd have immediately picked up the phone and told Tank no, they'd go after the skip another night—or at the very least to take his Babe back home, and leave a man with her; not to bring her in on this.

As it was, the client he was already starting to hate had asked him another string of long run-on questions and his attention had been diverted even if the sick feeling twisting in his gut continued to roll around growing more and more pressing as the night wore on. He'd just wrapped up the meeting (finally, he was starting to wonder if taking on this particular client was simply more trouble than it was worth even if the contract was for several million and relatively straight forward,) and was just getting through the doorway to his apartment on seven when his phone rang again. With it the dull roar that was itching along his spine and tingling over his skin since the first message became a searing flash of fear he only felt for one thing.

_Babe._

"Report," he was already slamming his way into his dressing room, empty stomach and all thoughts of his previous tension headache and tiredness forgotten. He listened to tank the knot in his gut twisting tighter with each word.

Stephanie had been with Les and Cal, the skip had run through a warehouse building, gotten behind a wall, some kind of structural damage in the building they'd heard a crash, Steph wasn't responding to their calls—they couldn't raise her on the comm. And they couldn't get to her location because the area she'd possibly fallen into was some kind of subbasement and the stairwell was collapsed, and the elevator shaft was blocked by the elevator car at the level they needed to go down…something about construction crews, the police-was Joe there? Not yet, but Tank didn't doubt he'd show up soon.

Ranger was in full swat gear and dressed with his normal arsenal of two guns and a knife, with an extra blade tucked away just in case because he never knew what was going to happen on these calls and he had the turbo screaming up the ramp and shooting like a rocket out onto the street nearly side-swiping another car before the conversation was over. He was too far away to patch into the com. System and try to reach his Babe himself, his hands clenched the steering wheel anger at himself and fear over what her silence might mean clawing at his heart. He was going to kill both Santos and Cal when he got there, he was furious with himself for not being at the building when the op went down—he'd have never let her go through that hole, admittedly Santos and Cal couldn't have known the structure of the building was that unsound but _God DAMNIT!_ they should have! They knew better, they were never supposed to let his Babe do dangerous things without checking to make sure it was safe first—breaching a hole in a wall with any number of unknown dangers on the other side was unforgivable.

He was in Newark and at the location as the some of the first response vehicles were showing up, he found Tank right away despite the chaos—he was a hard man to miss at roughly 6'6" and solid as…well his namesake. Ranger had activated his com the second he was on the same block and could already hear the chatter going back and forth not just between his team members, but Lester and Tank's alternating voices asking his Babe to respond.

_Nothing._

For the first time in years Ranger wondered if he might throw up.

He'd immediately signaled to Tank the moment he was in sight that he would take over the com and sent up a silent prayer that when he called her name she'd answer for him—that maybe somehow the pull they always seemed to have would bring her back to them. The silence after his words was unbearable, and it only got worse as the minutes pressed on and Tank was forced to spend his time explaining to the arriving emergency crews from various city branches what the problem was, Lester and Cal said nothing since he'd taken the com. Both men's face deathly pale and Ranger's keen battle-tuned senses with his adrenaline running high hadn't missed the shake of either man's hands even from his initial distance.

Wondering if this was the last night of your life could do that to even the most stoic man.

The first hint of sound they heard on the comm over an hour into what was undoubtedly going to be one of the longest nights of his life had Lester and Cal's hands jerking up to press their fingers to their ears like complete rookies—if he wasn't already envisioning killing them both for tonight's mistakes Ranger would have ordered them both to the mats first thing in the morning for such an obvious give-away. Even among friendlies such a movement was not tolerable. As it was even Tank's hand had jerked to his ear, the large man turning his body half away from the city foremen who'd been dragged from his bed at this hour to start an attempted rescue—effectively letting the man know Tank was no longer listening to his latest tired explanation of why things weren't moving forward—or at all.

Ranger had gone inhumanly still, even his breathing had stopped. The certainty of his next heartbeat hanging on that tiny scraping sound, the rest of his team had been especially careful to turn off their mics—no one wanted to risk muffling or missing a single hint of sound, the tiniest possibility of hope.

He felt himself draw air into his burning lungs when the sound came to his desperate ear again—and even Lester and Cal reacted, Cal's hands clasped in front of his chin, elbows on his bent knees against the back of the SUV they'd driven for the original take-down. Lester didn't look like he was praying—but if he ran his hands any harder through his short locks he'd be bald before this was over.

All around him Ranger realized other members of Rangeman had arrived during the hour long wait for some sign of life inside the building looming like a great monstrosity in the surrounding darkness, the glow of headlights, and the repeated flash of various emergency signal colors atop the variously scattered vehicles now gathered in the lot doing nothing to penetrate the inky blackness in the broken windows or gapping maw of the front door now blocked by police barriers and uniforms. Hal was here, he belatedly realized, as were Zip and Zero. He spotted Manny standing like stone, face an all too obvious wash of painful emotions staring up at the building with Vince and Woody beside him. Bobby was with Tank. He had no idea how long the other core team member had been on site—but he noted the second SUV belatedly with its side rear door left ajar and Bobby's medic bag left abandoned but ready on the seat—the presence of EMT's and a ready ambulance not deterring the other man's need to bring his own supplies—just in case.

Hector was near his elbow he noted, though he had no idea how long, again, the slighter man had been standing there. Some of the members drifted over to speak or possibly offer threats against Lester and Cal seeing as both men seemed to grow only more drawn and pale with each passing exchange—though that could also have been a factor of the time. Ranger was infinitely aware of every second that ticked by with no confirmed response inside the building, no guaranteed sound he could without a doubt classify as belonging to his Babe… He knew the doubt was growing on his men, the fear, and panic—the heavy weight of resolve was settling on them all, preparing themselves in any little way they could to hear the bad news, just as he was fighting and struggling with the possibility looming larger with each silent minute there was no answer…

This might be it. His Babe might not ever answer him again.

_No._

Ranger squashed that reality, tore it to pieces in his mind, ripping and shredding it with a rage reserved for situations such as this—the only times his precious hard-earned and fought for control started to truly slip.

There was another sound on the comm and Ranger's frantic pacing he didn't remember starting jerked to a stop. It sounded like a hitched inhale, an almost muffled sob.

"_Babe?!_ Babe, can you hear me? Please say something, anything babe, let me know you're okay." He was babbling, if he was honest with himself he'd been doing the same thing for close to an hour now. Heedless of the fact that every man he employed, every man he respected and had earned respect in return from was listening in, without comment to the silence on the other side of the line—to his frantic backwards slide into mounting panic, without a word from inside.

He had to remind himself once again not to slip into Spanish, no matter how badly his nerves were bent and how frantic his own heartbeat went. His babe didn't speak his native language, and if she woke and was in anyway confused or disoriented she needed to hear not just his voice, but his words.

There were soft sounds, almost like scrapes or rustles of cloth over the com and every one of his men went still—further confirming his suspicion that every one of them was waiting just as he was, listening intently for any subtle hope she was alive.

"Babe, Stephanie, please answer me, say something if you can hear me, tell me you're okay, I _need_ to hear your voice babe."

More soft sounds, almost like someone shifting—or a wire being dragged between two rough surfaces—maybe she was pinned by something? Under something? Trapped? His mind flew to the ordeal she's survived with Stiva and the cupboard and the coffin…fucking bastard, he didn't want to think about how panicked she would be if that were the case—it did nothing to help calm his fraying nerves.

"Babe, God." He paused to draw in a breath that didn't' want to go all the way down. His lungs seized with a sharp burn and he realized the same burn filled his eyes. "_Please Babe_, if you can hear me say something…babe, please God answer me…"

There was another definite soft sound, a quiet mummer of pain perhaps and his heart clenched in his chest. "Do you want the good news…" she rasped before weakly coughing and letting out a tight painful groan, "or the bad news." She wheezed weakly with another soft dry cough.

"_Babe,_" Ranger breathed, his blank mask long gone, every desperate emotion vying for dominance on his face in the overwhelming wash of relief he barely noticed being echoed on the rest of his men's faces around the lot. He swore he saw Lester's shoulders start to shake and his hands rise to swipe at his face and eyes.

"How long was I out?"

He wondered for a moment if he should fib on the time, if he told her the truth she'd immediately know there was a problem getting her out—though she'd quickly find that out anyway. It seemed Tank had renewed his argument with gusto directed towards the city rescue members now that they had confirmation of life, and he still seemed to be getting nowhere.

"…about an hour, we're trying to get to you now, but we had to call in some experts the building is old—and a lot of it is unstable."

"No shit." She wheezed and he didn't fight the tug of humor to his lips.

"Where are you Babe? Can you see anything that might help?" _Please, just keep talking to me, and don't stop._ He almost added but held back.

There was enough silence his heart started to pound again, and then; "I can't see shit." She admitted sounding defeated.

He realized Lester was walking towards him and had to physically hold back the impulse to punch the shit out of the other man, "What?" Ranger snapped when he was close enough, he listened to Lester's quick words and nodded turning his back on his still stricken and pale looking cousin to focus on the soft breathing in his ear and her voice.

"Babe, do you still have Lester's Mag light?"

_There was more rustling_ over the line and then a painful hitching breath that tore at his chest clogging the back of his throat with fear all over again. "Babe, are you hurt?"

"You didn't ask me for the good news Ranger,"

No. _No no no no no no_… He felt his eyes slip shut, his heart missed a few beats in his chest and his breathing tangled up in the back of his throat. She was avoiding the question…which mean she didn't want to answer, and if it was anything minor she'd have admitted to it, or simply told him no…

"What's the good news?" He finally was able to say when her silence pressed on, obviously waiting for him to respond.

"I'm alive, and I can hear you."

Ranger sucked in a breath, the dread and rising panic over her possible injuries only growing. "Do I want to know the bad news?" He barely managed to say around the tightness forming a lump in his throat.

"No, you _really_ don't, tell Les next time there's a hole in the wall; He can go first."

Beside him Lester flinched like he'd been punched and kicked in the nuts, all the air rushing in a single breath from his cousin's chest.

"Already taken care of Babe," Ranger breathed shooting a glare at the other man beside him Hector's feet shifted on the pavement.

"Did you shoot him?" She asked, she was trapped in a building—hurt and she was worried he'd killed the man who'd gotten her into this mess! _Dios!_

"No, I didn't shoot him." Ranger said, but that didn't mean he'd completely ruled it out as a possibility later in the night… "Did you find that Mag Light yet, babe?"

There were a few scuffing noises he was starting to equate with her movement—perhaps feeling around on the ground or searching the floor with her hands, she should be able to at least tell the kind of space she was in by pacing it off or following the walls, her voice drew his attention again.

"I have a problem." And she sounded a tiny bit panicked and breathless even to him.

"I'm experiencing some of that myself," Fear gripped him.

"I found the Flashlight," she said.

"And?"

"Can't reach it."

Had it fallen behind something? Or through something just out of her reach—no she'd said it was dark and she couldn't see anything so she'd have to be able to at least touch it to know it was there…oh, madre de dios! She never told him what the problem was…she'd fallen he could only guess how far… "You can't move?" the words seemed to strangle halfway up his throat, damn near choking him with their implications. Dios, his baby possibly in a wheelchair for the rest of her life? She'd never survive it! It would break her spirit! His chest ached to the point he actually raised one hand to lay his palm over it and he had to suck in a few deep breathes willing himself calm. He had to do this, he had to get her through and then they'd figure this out, she'd stay with him, he'd never let her out of his sight again…

"Not easily," she said dragging him from the panicked circling thoughts swirling around in his head.

"Can you move your feet? Your legs?" A few of the men shot wary glances at him, he ignored them—even Tank's startled look. The Fuck did he care if his voice sounded too thick and his words wavered halfway through the question? He just needed Tank to get him in the god damn building already!

There was a startled inhale in his ear and a whimper that made his heart stumble in place. "I can move my legs," she breathed softly, still sounding uncertain, "Sorta,"

"Explain," Ranger growled and the tightness to his voice grew worse, there might be tears on his face and Tank was moving toward him but he simply turned his back, looking the other way. Around him all his men had gone unearthly still.

"Remember the bad news?" she gasped.

"_Babe_," So many things he always wanted to say in that one simple word.

"Let's talk about something else," she said and his stomach fell to the pavement right next to his boots. _She was injured and she was trying to be brave, she was hurt and he wasn't there…_

Then she mumbled something under her breath and Tank tripped over his own feet still crossing the lot nearly going to his knees, Lester cursed, and if it weren't for Hector's hand on his arm Ranger, the man in black himself might have crashed to the ground right there in the lot. He felt Hector brace him, his own hand coming to his knee but he couldn't remember bending forward—he couldn't remember any other time in his life when black dots were swirling over his vision that hadn't involved too-close for comfort IED explosions or conscious-threatening blows to the head…

In his ear her sweet whispered voice said "Fuck." And part of him still wanted to laugh, maybe it was hysteria he was feeling? Except any time he heard such dirty words come out of his babe's mouth he usually had that reaction—or worse, he wanted to take her up on the suggestion.

"I said that out loud didn't I?"

_God, yes babe you did._ He didn't say because he didn't know if he trusted those words or _any words_ making it out of his throat right now and not sounding like a desperate scream. He snapped his fingers to Tank and straightened up in the next nanosecond—his message clear.

YOU GET MY ASS IN THAT BUILDING I DON'T CARE HOW.

Tank nodded once and moved to make it happen.

"Impaled how?" Ranger finally managed to say only partially aware that his new found call to action had removed some of the tremor of fear from his voice.

"Nothing major," she lied. And his heart plummeted once more, he wondered if she realize he knew when she was lying to him—he always knew. Normally he let her have her little white lies, and tiny fibs of omission because they made her feel in control when he so often felt like everything about her was spinning wildly out of control and he couldn't keep her safe—at least one of them could bask in the glory of the delusion. They didn't both need to lie awake at night.

"I need to get in there," Ranger snarled to Hector still standing beside him though he'd released his arm the moment he had regained his control. With a quick flick of his gaze in answer Hector moved off into the darkness, slipping between the cop cars and Rangeman vehicles like a shadow to search the backside and narrow alleyway around the building searching for another way in. Fuck the chain of command, political resource bullshit; he was going in there, no matter what.

Lester and Cal quickly took up point on the officials closest to the building, their great hulking size blocking Ranger as he moved away from the shouting matches they both started up in deference to rescuing his Babe from the depths of her own personal hell. And his he realized—if he couldn't get in there he'd tear the place apart with his own bare hands until he found her.

He picked up his pace as he moved around the side of the building catching sight of Hector's briefly visible silhouette and a beckoning arm before the smaller man moved away. "Babe, I need some idea of where you are! Can you reach the light without injuring yourself further?" Where had the wall been? Tank had thought it was on the east side of the building, but how far had she moved through the wall before she'd fallen—for all he knew she could have found a room on the other side and walked around before the floor gave way and she fell through.

She hesitated for a moment and gave him a quiet, "yes," and it took him a moment to realize he'd just asked her to do something she obviously thought was going to be incredibly painful. But he was biting back a curse himself slipping through the broken back window Hector had smashed out with his boot ignoring the scratch of glass and the shallow cut stinging against his bicep as he passed through. He needed some idea of where she was—the darkness could have been a clue in daylight, in the dark it was harder to tell. But Les and Tank had swept the entire accessible bottom level and the most of the second one as well after his babe had cursed and then failed to respond to their comm calls.

There was a sub-basement in this building, and Ranger's radar was telling him that was where he needed to go—hand signaling hector in the low light available he indicated the way he wanted to search and the smaller man nodded once and slipped off looking for any way down.

In his ear the definite sound of heavy breathing drew his attention—as did the painful whimper that he wasn't even sure she knew had slipped out, God how he hated hearing his babe make those pitiful sounds especially when he wasn't there to comfort her. "Got it." She gasped softly in his ear sounding a bit out of breath and he wondered yet again if he needed to call in the full medical back-up unit to follow him in—regardless of what the cops or structural engineer had to say.

Her startled choked off scream froze his blood in sheer panic, his feet stumbling as his own legs tangled themselves up with a terrified jerk that almost sent him sprawling. "Babe!? Stephanie!?" She wasn't saying anything again and he couldn't breath waiting for her voice to return—his mind pulling up too many horrors from battle fields and ops gone bad to go with that terrified last outburst.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," She whispered repeated in his ear while he tried to remind himself to breath—Dios, this night was going to kill him. "Just, didn't realize the ceiling was going to be right there."

"Babe?" Thinking of Stiva he ached for her, but he was also mildly curious—and he needed to know anything he could about her location, knowing that outside and inside Hector and the rest of his men would relay her words and use it to find her before whatever injuries she'd sustained could get any worse.

"I'm in some kind of…space. Uh, It's concrete, there's beams, big square concrete beams but the part I'm in is maybe two feet tall, except for the hole above me—some kind of pipe it looks like, I think it was connected to the one in the wall I went through. I don't remember what happened, but I must have fallen down it after I crawled into the wall. The rest of the room might be higher I can't…" then she suddenly stopped talking to suck in a breath.

He hoped it was just because she was trying to assess her surroundings—give him something tangible and concrete to work with. Just ahead of him Hector had found an elevator shaft—which was blocked by the elevator at its lowest level—the sub-basement. But with hand signals and a few tense looks a plan was formed to open the doors, drop through the elevator access hatch to the car below and jimmy open those doors so he could reach the floor below. He started doing just that with Hectors help before signaling that the other man should wait for him on this floor—he'd certainly need someone to help him possibly bring her back up this way if another way couldn't be sorted out.

Hector nodded even if he didn't like it and watched him drop down with carefully braced hands to the empty stale air of the elevator car below. He used his largest knife to pry the doors to the car open and then had to bite back a frustrated grunt setting to work forcing open the rusted doors on their oil-free tracks so he could slip through, her voice floating to his ear once again.

"I've got some bad news."

He grunted in response still fighting the doors in front of him, "You already gave me the bad news." Ranger said, and then he blew out a breath wondering what new horror she was going to regale him with. This night he reasoned—was one for the history books. It go down in Rangeman history as the night the Bossman finally lost his marbles trying to save his Babe.

"I have worse news." she said, then she paused for a moment while he wedged his way through the doors and had to pull out his flashlight sweeping it around the space he now found himself in.

"I found our FTA, and he's dead."

"That's not so bad, I can live with that." Ranger said, he was probably going to kill the bastard anyway for his small involvement in her being here in the first place—which might not be fair, but he wasn't feeling like a very reasonable man at the moment. Carlos Manoso was dangerously close to losing all control.

"That wasn't the news." She told him.

"Babe, I'm on the bottom level, can you see my flashlight?"

She didn't say anything, maybe she was looking Ranger continued to sweep the beam around moving through the space, she had to be here…she had to… Her next shaky words brought him up short.

"Ranger, what does a bomb look like?"

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**Massive Tank-sized-thanks to all the readers and reviewers! **

Now back to other stuff, because seriously I shouldn't even be here! *gives muse a look*


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **_Not mine, Darn that!_

**Thanks: **Huge thanks to the readers and reviewers!

* * *

**Chapter Four**

The Maglight's yellow disk of sight cut through the inky darkness pressing around him and landed on the first column in the same moment her question registered in his ear. Ranger went very still, barely breathing as if the air itself on his next exhale might disturb things in some way. He raises his arm slowly, letting the beam sweep up the column rising overhead following the wires up the concrete pillar, all expression slides from his face noting the duct taped bulges unevenly spaced, the lines running up and over, across the steel beam of the basement ceiling where more bulges were visible for a good fifty feet along its length. The ceiling supports, the weight baring trusses for the first floor, and all the unstable ones above it.

He notes the obvious fingerprints and scuff marks in the dust coating the surfaces, this is the work of several hands—and thinking back to their FTA's rap sheet he highly doubts that one of them was their skip. This is beyond him. It's not military professional, it's not professional at all Ranger realizes. Professionals would know the amount of explosives wired to the support beams is clearly overkill. There's enough C4 in this basement to turn the entire industrial block into a desolate crater. It's far more explosive then is needed to kill them all, and Since he can't see his Babe still, when he sweeps his beam through the space, he can only assume she's looking at something similar someplace else.

_What the fuck is going on here?! Someone wants them dead, and clearly doesn't care how many people go with them, but who?_

Wires, and charges, and more wires, Ranger scans them all, doing his best to memorize the details in his mind, all of these things looped back, strung together like a loosely tangled spider web suspended in the darkness. He's lucky his flashlight caught the device, he wonders if he'd stumbled through the wires if he would have disconnected something and set the whole thing off. There wouldn't have been even a millisecond to realize his mistake.

Dust motes floated in the air of his beam, drifting on small currents that did nothing to lessen the beads of sweat breaking out over his skin. Her voice draws him back to the situation they now find themselves in. "Ranger?" there's the tiniest edge of panic in her tone, he can feel it himself squeezing at his chest, pushing his pulse faster in his ears flooding him with even more adrenaline that heightens his senses to the point of distraction. He shakes his head slightly. Panic gets you killed. He needs to _think_. _Assess the problem Soldier. _His eyes sweep over the device.

"I heard you babe," Ranger reassures her with his tone, forcing the shake out of his voice and pulling his smartphone from his pocket, well aware that outside his team would have already informed the police and emergency response crews to the possibility of explosives. Now they need proof. "What's it look like?" he asks while stepping closer to quickly snap some photos of the device before him, the wires and the beams are next.

"It's strapped to his body, it's all lumpy…it kind of looks like that bomb that Scrog made off the internet, only there's a stopwatch, or a wrist watch face in the middle of it…"

Ranger stared at the device in front of him. Not what he's looking at than, a homemade amateur bomb on their skip and enough C4 on the building supports to bring it down on their heads…someone is playing a dangerous game and they've stumbled into the middle of it. "What's it say babe, is there a count down? Can you read it?" He needs to know if he has less time then he has here to solve this and get them both out.

"It's just the time, I think…" she whispers back to him, her tone uncertain, shaken. "have I really been out that long?" The fact that she's not sobbing and crying makes his chest swell with pride, his babe is just as strong and brave as his men. Lost down here, injured he has no idea how bad; alone in the dark now with a bomb and she still manages to keep her head. He wants to tell her how proud he is of her, but now is not the time, he needs to find her first, he needs to get them out of here.

His eyes once more slide over the device large enough to take down the entire building over their heads, the countdown clock on this one's detonator clearly reads 58:43. A moment later that became 58:42… less than an hour before at least a half mile radius gets blasted into hell.

_Assess_—he has less than an hour to get them the hell out of here. He'll have to work out the why, and who later when they're safe, when she's safe.

"Okay babe, I need you to look for my flash light, tell me you can see it so I know where you are down here." Ranger said raising his own watch and setting an alert to go off fifteen minutes ahead of the count down, that should be enough time to get them out at the last second. He began sweeping the beam around the space once more sending the images he'd taken to Tank's phone with his other hand certain that his second in command was still standing outside in the lot since he hadn't heard him announce that they were coming in as back up.

The pictures started to send and he quickly added a simple message to them.

IMPOSE RADIO SILENCE ON 2ND PACKAGE COUNTDOWN 57 MINUTES. BS ETA?

The last thing he wanted was for her to be even more panicked thinking about the deadline of an entire building coming down on their heads.

FIND OUT WHO FTA REALLY WAS. NOW. Ranger typed next and hit send. This was no coincidence.

He was still sweeping the beam through the space craning his head to follow the light searching not only for his babe now but any other trip wire or device when his phone toned once letting him know he had a message. Ranger brought the phone forward to swipe his thumb over the screen for Tank's message.

COPY. BS ALERTED, 30 OUT. PARAMETER MOVED 500FT. TPD PC THREATENING TO ARREST U FOR TRESPASSING. INSTRUCTED HIM TO SIUHA.

His lip curled in disgust at the message, Damn right the man could shove it up his ass. They'd have to drag him out of this building unconscious if they thought he'd leave without Stephanie, and that was before he knew there was a bomb. Then Ranger frowned digesting the rest of the message, thirty minutes for the Bomb Squad to even arrive didn't bode well for any of them. Trenton didn't have its own dedicated unit—the budget was too small, which meant they were borrowing someone else's men from either New York or as far as Philadelphia even. Men who didn't know his babe, and wouldn't be as motivated to stop this.

"Tank," Ranger said into his comm still sweeping through the space, knowing his men are still listening even if their mics have been off since he arrived. "I need a set of hands in this building," Preferably one of his men with prior experience in bombs and keeping things from exploding. If they didn't disarm the device he had to get her out of here in less than an hour—and he still wasn't sure where she was or what the second bomb might be.

"No go Rangerman, they're not letting anyone in the building yet, not even Police." The tone clearly stating that there was some seriously ruffled feathers outside over the fact that _he'd_ gone in. Ranger opened his mouth to snarl back something and stopped himself. He whipped out his phone instead.

500FT NOT ENOUGH. INFORM THAT PENDIJO THIS WHOLE BLOCK WILL LOOK LIKE FALLUJAH IF DEVICE GOES OFF WHILE THEY STAND AROUND DIH.

Ranger smashes the send button with more strength then necessary and shoves the device back in his pocket. Politics. There's a bomb, two of them, and people in danger and the police chief wants to stand around with his dick in his hand waiting for someone else to tell him what he can and cant do.

It was days like this he really missed Black Ops when he could just get the job done, and people got the hell out of his way.

* * *

**TBC...**


End file.
